Today, the 6th of April, marks the 14th anniversary of the beginning of the Rwandan genocide. It is still hard to believe that such a massacre occurred, killing 800,000 people during this 3-month period in 1994. And it all started as an ethnic cleansing of all Tutsis, or anyone married to, employing, or befriending a Tutsi. I walked through the dark halls of the Kigali Memorial Museum, looking at the photos, video, interviews of the survivors, and the remains of the murdered: leftover clothing, skulls, bones, and chains. The hardest part was seeing photos of murdered children with their names, age, favorite sport and food, best friend, last words before death, and the way each child was killed. The most common cause of death was “hacked by machete,” along with “shot in the head,” or “smashed into wall until stopped screaming.” 
I wonder where some of these kids would be today – maybe finishing up secondary school or being 22 and working at a rural health center. I always thought I had some hard times in 1994, but now I am reinforced of the insignificance of my own memories; I was not gang raped and butchered by a machete, or watching my family slaughtered in front of my own eyes. Sometimes it is hard to believe that every Rwandan over 14 years old has his or her own version of the story to tell. It is scary that human beings have the ability to perform such violence and hatred toward each other. While looking back on all the genocides, it comes down to ethnic cleansing, religious segregation, poverty, or civil war: the Holocaust, Bosnia, Armenia, Cambodia, Namibia, Rwanda, and now in Darfur. It is funny how organized religion seems to have caused more war than peace. And now, outside the Kigali Memorial Museum, numerous massive graves bury the corpses of thousands of unidentified bodies from 14 years earlier.
